The Children of Gods
by TurtleTracer
Summary: It's impossible to create the perfect children. So this time the god of Destruction and the goddess of Creation, didn't even try.
1. Where did we go wrong

****I have the whole story planned out for this tale. It's a unique one, and who knows how others will respond. However I'm excited to give this a go.****

* * *

The Children of Gods

The meadow she sits in is a small land of wildflowers of varying colors. The colors twist and mingle themselves at her feet in such a way that almost takes away from their beauty. Lush trees of green and brown surround her meadow, just as a she herself is surrounded by a black ring of death.

Tikki, the goddess of life bend down gracefully onto her bottom and hugs the head of the god of Destruction as he kills her life with his presence. She is human height, but with a face to smooth and round to ever be mortal. Her eyes are a shiny blue, the orbs filled with mirth and love. Two antennas fan out from the top of her head, down her neck and back, giving the illusion of hair. Her slender insect body has been tweaked and changed over time to resemble that of a female hourglass, with her wings forming down and about her like a skirt. Her backwards bending knees scrunch up as she continues stroking the cat man at her feet, a man with skin so black that it looked to be night. Bright green eyes being the only glowing difference in his form that offsets the monotone of black.

Plagg purred in her lap, licking her hardened bug fingers lazily, Tikki giggled at his antics and rewarded him with a quick kiss to the mouth.

But she had to ruin this moment, she knew that she did. Plagg was waiting for it too. No one but her could have seen the hidden stiffness of his normally liquid calm spine. A small sigh of apprehension towards her cat came out her lipless mouth as she reckoned the unfairness of it all. That she should have to ruin this. This moment of love and content.

"Plagg, we cannot wait any longer," Tikki said giving her god one last head squeeze, "We must get started."

Plagg only curled in on himself tighter. Tikki pet his head again, "What is the matter my beautiful darkness? We have done this before."

Plagg grumbled his response, but Tikki doesn't hear with ears, her antennae's easily caught what her cat said. "Where did we go wrong?"

Tikki felt her eyes squint in her sadness. She could not cry here, not in this form. Her tiny body on Earth was capable of such a human feat, but her true body was made of stiffer parts. Still the habits of that world bleed into this one. So she squinted her eyes.

"I believe I know," Tikki spoke. Plagg looked up. She nodded sadly at her other half, "Yes I know where we went wrong."

Plagg sat up, his ears straightening, "You know? You just know? Oh please Tikki, we've been trying to figure this out for years down there and you-just-know! Give me a break."

With a roll of his black slitted pupils in glowing green eyes Plagg turned his furred back on her. He was angry, she could feel it. But she could also feel that it was a small thing, an anger born from being sad.

"We wanted too much I'm afraid," Tikki explained still refusing to stop stroking her darkness's ear. "I wanted a child that would be perfect for me, sweet, courageous, proud, with a love to make something that wouldn't exist without her. And you wanted a child perfect for you, someone who would love what's mine, yet who was mischievous, rebellious, and fun."

Plagg looked back at her over his broad feline shoulder. He was silent, he was listening.

"We had forgotten that humans grow into their own beings, beyond the basics of their core that we give them. I wanted someone perfect for me, but that doesn't make her perfect for creation. You wanted someone perfect for you, but made him too good at destruction." Plagg licked her hand as she continued, "Humans are malleable creatures, slaves to experiences and there environment. And we my darkness, were selfish."

Plagg turned back towards his light, "Mewooow," he said. Tikki giggled high pitched and cutely. Plagg joined in with his own deep chuckling growls. It wasn't the time to laugh, but it's what they did, together through squinted eyes. When they finished Plagg stood two legged, his body muscled and built like a perfect blend of a completely black furred human and feline. "Alright my light, it's time to make more munchkins."

Tikki nodded, getting up and joining Plagg, "Yes, we will be careful this time. It is every parents dream to have a perfect child for them. But children are precious no matter what. We shall not forget again."

Plagg snorted, "How could we?"

Tikki paused, "We couldn't."

They walked together through the goddess's garden, perfectly in synch. Every lift of the leg from Plagg was a bend of a limb from Tikki. The world beneath their feet blackened were Plagg walked, and bloomed were Tikki strode. They didn't hold hands as they moved. They didn't need such a human gesture to feel one. Besides, there would be plenty of cuddle time later. They made it to a pond near the edge of the goddess's garden. Its standing water rippled peacefully before the darkened woods of the god, where Tikki ended, and Plag began. Together Tikki and Plagg sat on their haunches near the pond. There was no fish in this pond, only eggs. Bright grey eggs holding both of their life. As one they both took out one egg each. They didn't remove it from the water. Instead they squeezed their egg, focusing on the life inside. Shaping it, into something that could be human.

Plagg smirked mischievously as he looked at Tikki's calm concentrating face. She looked so at peace.

He splashed her with water. With an indignant squeak Tikki swiped uselessly at her face, trying to remove the water from around her eyes. She glared at Plagg as he laughed.

She sniffed, "So immature."

Back to their eggs.

Surprisingly Plagg spoke first. "I think, I think that this time mine needs to be incorruptible. Mine needs to be able to stay positive, to stay kind." He spoke as if this made him sad.

Tikki smiled, proud of her darkness, "Yes I think your right. And mine needs to be confident, oh yes just like before, but humble. I must give her a better chance of growing to be humble. She shall love to create, but I shall give her the tools to no longer fear destruction. Destruction leads to change, things must change."

Plagg closed his eyes, he could feel the life under his paw pulse, "Mine will be fun, he must be fun."

Tikki laughed, "Oh yes, and mine will love your fun."

Plagg and Tikki both did an awkward side hop closer, and touched their eggs together. Feeling what the other had created, morphing theirs in slight ways to suit the others. Not the perfect babies, but human ones they hoped.

When they were done they sent their children to Earth. Tikki placing her egg in the home of a Chinese woman with a soul as sweet as creation.

Plagg placed his in a woman with a soul of adventure and love.

Both killed every other egg in their chosen's wombs.

Each woman would have their children, with human DNA from both her and her lover. The children may even grow to have some personality traits of their birth parents. Though more likely, they'll have personality traits that the cooing parents disillusion themselves into thinking of as theirs, or would teach to their young through their love and home. But that would be all, for their children were shaped, long before their pregnancy tests read positive.

Tikki is more than happy with her daughter's family. Sabine is as kind and at peace with her world as Tikki had predicted. While Tom was a husband most young ladies could only dream of. Alas she could not join her daughter yet, not until she held her stone. She could feel her stone of creation. But since she could not touch it, it was the job of another child of a god to bring her daughter the stone.

Until then, Tikki could only catch glimpses of her baby's life. She was loved, and happy. She learned just the right way to gurgle to get her way with Tom. She learned to crawl away from her mother's smelly incense. And she learned to walk, surrounded by cheers and the laughter of joy, while she moved back and forth between each parent.

Sabine hugged her baby Marinette to her chest and cried when she learned she could have no more children. Tikki watched. The shops around their bakery was a little less lucky that day, while their bread was just that much more fluffy.

Plagg was not impressed with his son's family. Oh he was at first, what with the wealth, and the endless supply, of well, supplies that he would have. Tikki always tells him that in the human world money doesn't buy happiness. Plagg agrees, but having lived during the dark ages, he sure knows that it can help.

Plagg didn't even mind the parents so much. The dad, Gabriel, worked too much sure. He didn't play with his son nearly as much as he ought to.

But he ran out of his office when Ameile waddled their baby across their tiled living room floor. He let his son sit in his lap as he sewed. Patiently replacing every bit of yarn his son had gotten his hands on with a toy, without so much as a break in his stride as he worked.

His son's mom had a lot of love to give, both to her husband and to her son. But she would disappear as well, leaving her baby with a sitter. She would travel around, writing articles about the fashion designs outside of Paris, before coming back and giving her notes to her husband. But that didn't mean the love wasn't there.

There was nothing wrong with his son's world. So why did it make him uneasy? He asked Tikki this once as they raced through his darkened woods. She laughed, perhaps too high on adrenaline to take much note to what he said. "He is a baby my darkness. Families change after they grow. I'm sure it will be better."

Ameile didn't cry when she found that she could no longer have children, neither did her lover. They were content. Plagg found that he liked that, when humans could just be content.

With any luck, this time their children would be too.


	2. I'm Marinette

He came to Paris when her baby was three, and Plagg's still two. His name was Jagan, and Tikki saw him coming miles away. The newcomer didn't try to hide his power as he appeared, a good sign.

Yet even if he hadn't purposely been parading his power through the very air to get her attention she would have noticed him anyways. No one knew how to flaunt like this Child of Gods.

Tikki's last daughter knew Jagan well and was not impressed. However Plagg's last son spent much of his younger days chasing the lad down. Jagan was fun, carefree, and somehow calming. Plagg had considered him a good influence on his son and encouraged the playdates. Meanwhile she had decided to respect her daughter's, truly only mild, distaste of the man and didn't push the issue further. Her child had disapproved of the way Jagan strutted his abilities without actually helping anyone. Yet now Tikki wondered if she made the wrong call in not encouraging her child to accept Jagan. It's so hard to say. She had made so many mistakes.

But her past crimes towards her late offspring did nothing to stop the rampaging storm of Jagan that was making its way down her current daughter's street. He was dressed in the old fashioned sherwani of sub-continental India. The long coat was a deep blood red, embroidered with the swirls of fabricated gold, with pants that matched the shimmering swirls. His black hair was long and pulled back into a ponytail. A red dot, that Tikki doesn't remember seeing before, adhered his forehead. Knowing Jagan the new bit was added more for humor purposes than actual religious or cultural love. But other than that he looked exactly the same as he did all those years ago. His face was still young and high cheeked, his eyes still black, and his skin still a smooth light brown.

All of him, still young.

" _Aha_ what to juggle next my fair Parisians? Are my colored rocks not good enough for you? Just as I thought. This calls for some music!" Jagan yelled to the street around him in accented French. People laughed and shouted their agreements as Jagan put away his neon lighted balls and removed a violin. He never stopped walking backwards as he shook and jiggled himself around, playing a tune so fast-paced that it got the kids around him worked up into a frenzy. A crowd of tourists and locals followed the man like a rat to a piper. Jagan laughed in glee, ignoring the sweat pouring down his face as he bowed his strings.

By the time he made it to the bakery Plagg had joined Tikki. Somewhere away from it all, the two of them sat in a circle of her garden and laughed along with the mortals at the god child. Close together and their foreheads touching Tikki found herself absentmindedly wrapping her antennas around Plagg's head, smiling her lipless mouth in happiness.

"He's still so hyper," Tikki giggled.

Plagg snorted "What an understatement. That Dog's child will still be flopping around even in death."

"He shall be the first corpse that we have to tie down," Tikki agreed merrily.

Plagg nuzzled her smiling face.

"It happened so soon," Plagg said, giving Tikki his own feline grin.

"Yes, I am so relieved," she said. The blooming flowers beneath her began to liven and invade into the half circle of death around Plagg. He allowed it.

"Hurry, you must go to her. Get her ready," Plagg urged, pulling himself away from his light's offered vision and her head.

Tikki gasped, her buggy hand covering her mouth, "Oh you're right my darkness. But she is so young. How can she be ready? I need to hurry." Tikki closed her eyes, and just like that Plagg was alone. His lightness turned transparent as he watched her still form. It's a stillness so dissimilar to the life she represents or the death that he creates. For whether in life or death, no human could ever be so empty.

* * *

"Hello?... Hello?... Hellooooooo?"

"Hello to you to Marinette," Sabine said smiling sweetly at her little light of her life. Marinette looked up at her mom curiously, tilting her head just enough to cause one of her high done up pigtails to flip sideways over her head. "Was not talking to you maman."

Sabine blinked, slightly surprised, her daughter often used her words to get attention, a great relief after witnessing many children who find more, destructive ways to find affection when their parents are trying to work. Sabine had been ready for some toddler sass for a good ten minutes now, since it was just about that time for her daughter to start getting fussy. It was the location for a tantrum too, with the two Dupain-Chang ladies being in the back kitchen of their pastry shop. Having bakers for parents quickly lead to little Marinette learning that when her parents were in the kitchen, than they were going to be no fun. It was a conclusion that Marinette had no problem voicing often and loudly, much to her poor soft-hearted husband's dismay.

Perhaps this was a game of pretend. Amusingly curious Sabine crouched down to her daughter's level. "So who are we saying hi to?"

"Hi. Oh wooow. I'm Marinette."

Sabine frowned as she watched Marinette ignore her maman and continue to talk to herself. The little miss was staring off blankly at seemingly nothing. Sabine tried following her daughter's gaze, but unless Marinette had suddenly found bags of flower fascinating, she saw nothing for her daughter to be looking at. Still Sabine plowed on, "Who are you talking to Marinette?"

Marinette snapped out of her blank-eyed stare in favor of looking at her maman with wide confused eyes. "Ummmmm."

 _"_ _Tikki,"_ The word was whispered, sweetly and with delicate care through Marinette's tiny mind.

"Tikki," She parroted back.

"Tikki?" Her mother repeated. Her voice sounded confused, but she was to so that's ok.

"Yeah she says that she's going to be talking to me now," Marinette informed her maman, wanting to help her not be so confused. No one liked being confused.

" _Aaaah_ I _seeee_ , is Tikki your new little friend?" Sabine asked. Marinette had to think about this, she doesn't actually know yet if Tikki is her friend, she sounds nice. Maybe she would be fun to play with, but Tikki was just a voice, you can't play dolls with a voice. Her maman began to frown again, probably because it was taking to long for her to answer. Oh goodness, oh goodness, the T.V. was right, that woman has _noooo_ patience.

 _"_ _I'd love to be your friend Marinette,"_ said the voice.

"Oh she will love to be my friend," Marinette told her mother.

"Oh well what a relief," her mother replied in happy sarcasm. And it sure is a relief, she would hate for her first head voice to not want to be her friend.

"Yeah," Marinette agreed, she spied a plate of macaroons, "Oh maman you make pink ones, I want a pink macaroon, pees?"

 _"_ _And cookies."_

"And cookies!"

'Here it comes, get ready for some sass,' Thought Sabine rolling her eyes about their sockets. "No sweetie, that's for selling, we need to sell treats to make money. Now off you go, you know that the kitchen is for work, not play."

"Tikki wants some cookies to," Marinette said.

"Oh I just bet she does. Now _shoo_ , off with you." Marinette's bottom lip came out in a pout, but obediently she left. Sabine chuckled in her relief to have dodged a sass bullet, and resigned herself to her fate as her, magical all-knowing mother future vision, told her that she was going to be hearing much more about this Tikki for a long time.

Sabine heard the _ding_ of another customer, but though she heard the twinkly _ding_ of her shop's front door, she missed out on its following _dong_. Was the costumer not closing the door? Was it a delivery? In this heat it is such a waste of money to keep the door open so flippantly.

Then she heard voices, and more. Sabine wiped her floury hands across her apron and hips. With hurried curiosity she peaked her head out around the kitchen corner to see the front of her shop. Her mouth dropped at the sheer number of costumers, most still marching their way through her front door. Her husband Tom was slack jawed and frozen behind the register, and an Indian man in garbs was given his own space in the middle of her shop for him to dance, roll, and spin himself around her floor. The crowd cheered their appreciation, their awe, as the man flung himself up again before kicking and flipping himself back to the ground.

Oh break dancing, the man was breakdancing. In her store, in that outfit!

The man flipped up again! "Macaroons for all my new friends! Leave no one out!"

The crowd cheered their self-gratifying good luck, and Sabine joined them, before running to the back to grab the entire day's batch of macaroons.

* * *

Marinette was in the bakery part of her house the day a strange man in a red dress gave her a tiny box. He pulled it out of his hat like magicians are supposed to do with bunnies, but this one was a box, the most fancy box that Marinette had ever seen. It was black with red lines running along the sides of the box, lines that squared off against each other on the lid until it looked like the lines were making a bunch of tiny squares, were every new square was smaller and inside the other. She doesn't open it while the funny man is still in the bakery. She just rubs her thumb against the pretty lines with one hand while she eats a cookie with the other.

She had to eat the cookie. Her mother said they were out of macaroons.

When the funny man left he took everyone with him. Maman and papa couldn't stop smiling. Giving into her parent's pleasant mood she finally turned her attention to the box. She opened it, and saw two little red stones with black polka dots. Like a ladybug, she always liked ladybugs.

Tom caught his daughter gazing into the box, and suddenly realized that he never did check to see what the stranger had given his daughter. He walked over to Marinette and peaked over her shoulder.

….Earrings? Who gives a three year old earrings? She could poke herself. Plastering a smile onto his face he marched into battle, cookie in hand. Tom gently covered his large hand over the box.

"Hey my little Mari, why don't I take that and put it in your room for you?" Tom slowly took the box out of his little girl's hand. Marinette started to scowl, and opened her mouth for a demand of her new stones back, when the hand that once held a priceless engraved box now unconsciously tightened its gripped onto a warm cinnamon cookie.

Marinette chose the cookie.

Later that night after Marinette was clean and changed into her pink fairy nightgown, Tom placed the earrings on the tallest dresser in his daughter's room.

He'll have to think about getting her ears pierced before she gets tall enough to reach the box on her own.

* * *

Before their Icon of Gods is given to their child it is almost impossible to communicate or take shape before them. Tradition, built both upon a sense of camaraderie, and insurance that the same will be done for their own child one day, deemed responsibility of finding and giving this icon to a new Child of Gods the job of all remaining children

Ever since the quick arrival and departure of Jagan Tikki has been able to easily communicate with her daughter, although the lack of physical contact with her earrings make it still impossible to appear before her in person.

The child of the Dog didn't leave France after completing his mission. If she concentrated Tikki could still feel him moving about what little countryside was left of the small nation. Tikki wondered why he stayed, the box had been delivered and no warnings from Tikki had been given to Ames, the Dog, that she needed further assistance. With any luck her daughter would have many years before she would be in need of an older Child of Gods, and considering whom she was, she liked her daughter's chances.

Aleandra appeared before Adrien only a few months before his third birthday, Plagg doesn't sense her coming.

* * *

" _Alouette, gentille Alouette, Alouette, je te plumerai, Alouette, gentille Alouette,"_ Ameile sang as she spun her son around his room, and oh my was there room to spin!

 _"_ _Aloutte!"_ Adrien managed to repeat back, between the moments he decided to stop spinning his head about his neck in mock imitation of dance. Ameile stopped mid turn to pet her hand across the silky blond strands on her two year old's forehead.

"Maman!" He screeched unnecessarily back at her, smiling for no reason, with his bright beautiful green eyes shining.

Oh her baby was going to be a handsome one, she could just tell.

"Yes baby I am your maman, thank you for reminding me. Now do you like your new room?"

"Yes."

"And why do you like your new room."

"…"

"Adrien?" The little boy snapped his attention back to his maman. "Why do you like your new room?" She repeated encouragingly.

"Cause it big," Adrien said still looking around in awe, "And it for Adrien, Adrien room."

"That's right," Ameile said with a laugh, gently she set her boy down on the floor. "It's Adrien's room."

With an ear bleeding laugh of glee the boy began running pointlessly around the room. With both sets of stairs leading out of this room and to the upper library closed off with the best baby gate that money can buy, Ameile was sure that the little boy wouldn't ever be able to get out of this area without Gabriel or her help. It was perfect.

Adrien screeched again, Ameile winced. "It's a little loud baby."

Adrien stopped the screeching instantly in favor of wondering over to his new wall length windows. It's a peaceful beautiful night, but still one that's getting later by the second. Ameile has a feeling that she'll be turning in early.

A dark figure appeared before Adrien.

Ameile's scream of terror startled Adrien into tears faster than the new person standing just beyond the window.

His window shattered.


	3. No tears little big man

**Season three has been pretty fun so far. I certainly haven't seen any comments saying otherwise. Except for the usual, please-reveal-yourself-for-the-love-of-god, commenters. The episode with Santa declaring Ladybug as, 'the best kid in the whole world,' was a little much for me. However, I have a feeling that episode is going to go into a dark box in my mind that I'll pretend doesn't exist. So no worries here.**

 **I hope you enjoy what I have here, and leave a review if you have time.**

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Royal blue hands grasped for Adrien from between the broken glass, and a face soon followed. The face was similarly blue, but unlike the swirling dark blue and black of the intruder's satin gloves, the skin was a lighter shade. It's hair was a tangle of blues and greens that hung down the sides of it's face, surrounding an almost heart shaped head with beautiful perfection.

It was a her, a blue skinned female. With glowing black pupiless eyes.

Ameile screamed again, scrambling for her boy in shoes that were not meant for such movement. She had no chance. The Royal Blue Bitch picked up her boy and retreated back out the window, without having to bother coming fully into the room. All the while little Adrien screamed earing piercings _"No nos!"_ into the night.

Ameile took a deep broken breath. "Gabriel!"

No answer, no sounds of frantic running feet from outside her son's room, but her baby, she could still hear him screaming outside the window. The woman wasn't running, she was still in the backyard! With a sobbed growl Ameile tore off her slippers and raced for the window. The hole the blue woman had made was large, but jagged. With sharp glassy points decorating the edges were the window had broken. It was skin cuttingly haunting, but Ameile had married Gabriel friggen' Agreste, and took a year of gymnastics in college. This kidnapper would regret not running.

With a sprinting start Ameile dived towards the window, she felt a twinge of pain come from the bottom of her foot as it protested her recent life choices, but that was all. Her body flew through the broken glass, her mind frantically going over long-ago tumbling tactics. Her hands touched first, elbows already bent and ready to roll her out.

She never got the chance. Before her legs could make it outside the window the hem of her night skirt snagged on a jutted-out glass point at the bottom of the window break.

Ameile face planted beautifully. The momentum of her jump and the pullback tug from her skirt skidded her upper body through the grass and back towards the window. Her knees were bent and hovering above her head in midair, saving her from cutting herself on the broken glass, but preventing her from protecting any dignity she might have had by keeping her silk black panties out of sight. Ameile heard a feminine laugh, her face burned.

With a vicious roll Ameile slide herself out of her position, removing her body completely from her loose skirted sleepwear. The woman laughed louder. She stood before Ameile in some sort of skintight unitard, adorned with swirling colors of royal blues, greens, and blacks. The outfit only ended when it came to the long gloves and attached peacock inspired cape. It was all so tacky. Her husband would have a fit

"Maman," Adrien whined, he reached two little hands out to her. His kidnapper kept the two-year-old firmly pressed to the side of her hip.

"Adrien my baby, d-don't be scared," Ameile told her child as she shakily got to her feet, "M-m-maman will save you." She felt the tears build in her eyes.

The Peacock Wannabe stopped laughing. "Where's the ring then maman?" She asked.

Ameile froze, "What? Look we o-own lots of rings. You can take your pick, anything you want. Just give me back my son."

Pea-Bitch snorted in disgust and glared at her son after another one of his pointless little punches smacked against her blue chest. "Don't play dumb with me. You know the ring I'm talking about. It would be the child's ring, and specifically the child's."

"He is two," Ameile deadpanned.

"I know," P-Cock said.

"You're insane."

"I'm eccentric."

"He doesn't have a ring!"

"I bet it's still in his room."

With a great tug of toddlerdom Adrien latched onto Peacock Woman's hair and pulled, getting his body into it and leaning back. Two movements followed this action, a short shout of surprise from Miss Tacky, and a race across the wet grass of her backyard from Ameile. She pounced herself at the Peacock Girl. Then with all the fighting experience of caged hamster, Ameile wrapped herself around Adrien as she brought the three of them down, keeping his head from hitting the grass. After landing side by side upon the Agreste's mushy lawn Ameile ripped her son out of a surprised P-bitch's hands as she rolled away.

"You filthy blond human, you understand nothing. Absolutely nothing!" The woman shouted. She rose up onto her elbows five or so rolls away from Ameile. "That isn't even your child. You're nothing but a baby making machine to them. Well fine, the twerp is useless to me without his ring. I'll just check his room." Both women got up from the ground, both backed away in opposite directions. Ameile pushed Adrien into her chest, muffling his cries. Behind her she saw that Peacock was almost back at Adrien's window. "You better hope I find it in your house, if I don't then I'll be back. You just try and tighten security. I'll find your efforts very cute. Though if it truly isn't here than the ring will find that child eventually, and when it does, I suggest you do yourself a favor and keep it nice and out in the open for my convince. That way no one has to get a second surprise visit from me."

A blue hand touched the broken glass.

The sound of a riveting buzzing trumpet filled the air. Peacock jumped back in shock, her eyes following Ameilie's upwards. For upon the roof, dressed in a red sherwani and no shoes, sat an Indian man blasting away on a glinting bronze trumpet. He would have been invisible in this darkness, if it wasn't for the sudden miniature spotlight that turned on right next to him.

 _Bzzzt Bzzzt bzzzt bzz_! The trumpet went. "Why my _blue_ -atiful Aleandra," the man shouted. "To long has it been no? You _neeeever_ visit me? And I have too much planned for us to do together, much too much."

"Jagan," the Fashion Disaster growled.

 _Bzzzt bzzzt bzzzt bzzzzzzzzzz-_

"Stop it!" Her first intruder of the night shouted, the blue woman took a threatening step towards the man on the lower roof.

" _Awww_ but every good game starts with one trumpet, it pumps much blood. And _ohhh_ boy, boy, boy, do I have perfect game for us!" The man reached into the front of his coat-like thing and pulled out a black circle on a black string.

No, no wait. It was a black ring on a black chain... It had been a long night.

"Y-you never gave it to him?" The Peacock stuttered.

"I never gave what to whom?"

"How? How did you know I was coming? Who told you?"

 _"Bzzzzzzzt!"_

A scream of rage burst out of tinged blue lips, she threw herself inhumanly up and at the new man. With a laugh the man booty sled down the side of Amelie's roof, making P-bitch miss her target entirely.

"Yes, chase me! Bring it very much on! Think of me as your own personal ginger bread man. I even bought outfit for occasion. I show to you later."

Two, three, and a fourth hop from the Peacock later, and she had parkour jumped over her fence after the man. Both were out of her sight, and out of her yard.

* * *

"Tom. Tooom."

"Huh wha', what is it dear? What time is it?"

Using one large hand Tom stretched his body sideways to reach his cellphone, inadvertently twisting himself out of his wife's soft grip on his arm. Tom checked his phone, and groaned. "Dear it's after two in the morning, and we have to open up early tomorrow for the delivery guy."

" _Hussh_ , Tom I think I heard someone in the living room," Sabine whispered to him, face pinched in adorable seriousness.

Tom gave her a small grin, "Don't you worry it's probably nothing, but I'll go check. Be right back."

Sabine guffawed at her man, "Oh please Tom, like I'm not coming with you."

Tom chuckled his reply as the two simultaneously twisted around to slip into their respective slippers. Sabine had to hop off the bed to reach hers. Tom led the way, phone light on and out, while Sabine followed behind him, her spine straight and their sturdiest broom handle gripped in both hands.

Sabine always insisted on keeping the broom handle in their bedroom for some reason. Well now, Tom supposed, he's discovered why.

Their bedroom was just beyond the living room, only separated by an incredibly short hallway. Yet even with the short distance there was a notable drop in temperature. Tom rubbed his arms against the strange cold.

They made it into the living room and flicked on the light.

" _Heeeeeey_ ," whined a high-pitched little girl. Little Marinette.

"Marinette?" Tom said.

"Marinette Dupain-Cheng, just what do you think you are doing out of bed?" Sabine asked sternly, squeezing her way past her husband.

Little Marinette stood on one of the kitchen's short rolling chairs. Apparently, she had seen fit to push the chair up against the wall, right under the living room window. Said window was opened, and one little-girl-arm was stretched through and into the outside world. Marinette stared at her mother as her arm remained unseen up to her armpit through the frame.

"Get away from that window Marinette," Tom said, knowing a stern situation that should never be repeated when he saw one.

Tom and Sabine could barely see it from this angle, but Marinette released something outside that she had been holding within her little knuckle. She never stopped staring at her parents as a glimpse of multiple red somethings were taken up by the wind outside and easily blown away.

Something red, and so light, flowers?

Sabine gasped to his right and raced forward, but she didn't run to their daughter, who had already begun her brave wobbly descent to get down from her perch. Instead she ran past Marinette and to a brown mess by the entrance to the kitchen.

"Little lady what happened here?" Sabine asked gesturing down towards the mess. Giving another shiver from the cold, and not wanting to think about how determined his daughter had to have been to brave the temperature just to do… whatever she had been doing, Tom crossed the room and shut the window. His wife could take care of their daughter.

"Are these dead weeds, or um, plants? Where on earth did you find all of these, did you go outside?"

Tom took the throw-blanket off the back of his couch.

"No maman, I did not go outside. But I hads to grow fwowers."

Tom froze in confusion, but only for a moment before bringing the blanket over to his daughter and wrapping it around her. She was shivering, just as he thought.

Sabine sighed placing a petite hand against her forehead, she made a gesturing motion towards the couch and Tom got the message. Scooping Marinette into his arms he walked the two of them to the couch. He waited for his wife to take her place beside him before setting his daughter between the two of them. Normally, when she knew that she wasn't in trouble, this motion would have made his daughter smile.

Tom hated discipline, but before they could get to that. "Honey, what did you mean when you said you had to grow them?" he asked.

"I hads to grow them. I just hads to. Tikki was sceaming."

That got Tom's attention, but then again, the phrase 'scream' often did. "Marinette did you hear screaming?"

Marinette nodded, "Uh huh, from Tikki, it was only little bit of sceaming. But she said Papa, she said that _'my dwarkness no, my dwarkness no.'_ Dwarkness needed one of Tikki's fwowers Papa, I just knows so. She said _'dwarkness no.'_ "

Tom and Sabine looked at each other. "Marinette what were you doing at the window?" Sabine asked, opting for an easier question.

"I was giving fwowers to Dwarkness, he needed thems."

Marinette straightened her spine and looked her maman in the eye. Almost daringly so.

"Honey the dark is not a real person, it just means that there is no light. But no matter what we do not go out of our beds and open windows or doors. When it's bedtime that means it is bedtime, and we stay in our rooms. Do you understand me?"

"Yes maman."

"Good."

"But Tikki-"

"Tikki would want you to get your beauty sleep so you're not cranky in the morning. Now come on, time to go back to bed… After we wash up, I don't even want to know what kind of muck you were digging through. We'll talk about this more in the morning."

Marinette reached out with a very clean hand and gripped her mother's fingers. Allowing herself to be led back to her room at the base of the stairs. The room was meant to be a small storage space, but it would do as a bedroom till Marinette was old enough to be trusted climbing the stars to the loft.

Shaking his head Tom turned back to his mess of a living room. Just thinking about all the cleaning he was going to have to do before he could go back to sleep made him yawn. With heavy footsteps Tom made his way over to the pile of probable dead plants near the entrance to his kitchen, he squatted down and picked up a single dried-up stalk. It was long and winding, almost like a vine more than the body of a flower. With only a slight crunching noise Tom gently picked up the rest of the bundle of dead things. The little bits of plant that flaked off fell slow and sweeping from his palm onto the floor. It was sort of gross, but also sort of clean. For this dead crumbling thing didn't have even a speck of dirt, or leaves. There was no trail of dirty dread leading from any of their doors to the living room. There were only vines, stalks, and some dried-up petals. Turning away from the pile he looked towards the chair still standing by the living room window. It was one of the short wheelie chairs from the kitchen, the Dupain-Cheng's owned about three of them. Yet the chair that Marinette choose was the only one with a broken wheel, which made it harder to roll the thing around, but also made it easier when you didn't want it to send your petite wife tumbling as she used it to reach something high up.

His three-year-old picked a chair that she knew ahead of time she wouldn't fall of off. Tom smiled through his confusion, he had always known that his little Marinette was smart, and it was times like these that only proved this to him.

Still it was hard not to worry about this new development. Marinette wasn't exactly the most rebellious little girl. This blatant misbehavior for the sake of an imaginary friend was out of character, and hopefully not something that would become a problem later.

* * *

"How? How did you hear nothing! I screamed for you, Adrien screamed for me, how did you not hear?" Ameile said harshly to her husband.

Gabriel gritted his teeth, but he tried to hold back his anger. It was the first moment that either of them had gotten alone together since he woke up from his face-smushed position on his office desk. The sound of police sirens echoing throughout his house from just outside was going on his list as one of the worst ways to wake up from a nap. He had rushed out of his home only to find his wife crying on the little wooden bench in his front yard, surrounded by two overweight looking police officers. His wife had one of those thin police-issued blankets wrapped around her shoulders, and she was hugging their two-year-old son for all he was worth. The officers had looked helplessly at one another as his wife's sobs continually kept his son crying. It was a cycle, one that the police were apparently too inept to stop.

After removing his son from the toxic situation, something his wife should have been smart enough to do earlier, he went to work calming her down enough for her to be capable of telling the cops what happened. Getting her a new night skirt to change into did wonders for her nerves, the one she had on before was so ripped that the tear along the bottom ran up the material and had reviled most of her thigh to the police.

Even after hearing the story, and suspiciously failing to see it on his security cameras since someone had managed to turn off his security system, Gabriel could hardly believe what his wife was saying. A blue woman who dressed like a peacock and could jump higher than an Olympic athlete, had apparently just tried to kidnap his son, for a piece of jewelry.

It was a stretch to believe, and now Ameilie was more concerned about why he hadn't been there to somehow make it better. As if he could have done anything in that situation.

Yet his reasons for not being there were also odd. Gabriel took a deep breath. "You heard from the police why I wasn't there."

"Yes, but they don't understand how light a sleeper you are Gabriel Agreste, and I do. And what happened to the goddamn baby monitor in our child's room, the monitor that is set up to be heard both in your office and mine. So how did you not hear us scream? Because if this is going to be a normal thing, then maybe we should think about moving Adrien's room to somewhere closer to ou-"

"There will be no need for that," Gabriel interrupted, frowning at the direction that this conversation was taking. The last thing he needed was for his child's room to remain any closer to his work area than it already was. You can turn a baby monitor down, you can't turn the world down. He needed his quiet sometimes.

"Look Ameile, I don't know exactly what happened. I only remember hearing some sort of, I don't know, some trumpet or something. It wasn't even played very long, and then I fell asleep. I must have been more tired than I imagined, perhaps I left the classical radio station on and… Ameile what is with that look."

Gabriel studied his wife's horrified face, for that's what it was, she was truly horrified. Of what? What had he said?

"G-gabriel," Ameile gulped, "I didn't tell the police everything."

Gabriel nodded and moved closer to his wife. He pulled her to him, even as she began to softly cry. "I had a suspicion. Go on. There wasn't actually a woman dressed as a peacock, was there?"

Ameile began to cry louder, Gabriel sighed. He oh so wished that his wife would get over her fits of overly emotional contrite. She could be so brave one moment, he didn't understand why she felt the need to ruin that just because they were alone.

"N-no there definitely was, and there was another person, a man on the roof with a trumpet and.. Oh Gabriel, they said they're going to be back! They want that ring, and she wants that ring. But the other man had it when he left."

Gabriel shushed her, petting her long blond locks gently. He was a good husband. "Start from the beginning," Gabriel encouraged.

And so, she did. By the next morning the security of the Agreste mansion went up tenfold. Birthday parties of other family friend's children were cancelled, and one, top-of-his-field, therapist was hired for a certain distraught Agreste wife. Little Adrien looked up at one of the many new men that have come through his home. This one was installing new bullet proof glass onto the wall of his room. Adrien liked to watch the construction workers, sometimes their machines set off shiny sparks.

Absentmindedly Adrien lifted his old chew ring to his mouth and began to suck.

"No, no, no honey," said his mother from behind him. With a single easy movement, she pried the spittled toy out of her toddler's mouth and tossed it into a basket of assorted metal rings. "No more rings for this house," she teased, gripping Adrien's cheek and stopping the small pout that was about to form on his face after having his toy taken away.

That night little Adrien sat happily on his mother's lap, sipping some chocolate milk from a sippi cup. He watched his father toss the rings from the basket into their burning fire place. Adrien might have protested when it was his chew rings turn to be tossed in, if it wasn't so cool to watch it burn in the flames.

* * *

 _Bzzzzzt bzzzt bzzt bzzzzt_! Aleandra ground her teeth together in fury, the line of blue peacock feathers that adorned her coat trailed behind her as she sprinted over hills and through broken patches of thinned forests. It was hard to focus, the off-key blast of that fool's trumpet hit her ears like a migraine.

It was times like this that she wished she didn't hold such a temper, that she could chase her target down with some semblance of class.

 _BZZZZZZZT_!

" _Agh_ , you furry bitch!" Aleandra yelled, deciding to forgive herself. No one should have to be calm when being annoyed by this dog. Aleandra felt little fingerless hands grip around her hair, the absence of bones allowed the wrist to wrap snake-like around her long strands.

"I hear the trumpet to your left, but something is off my child."

Aleandra turned left at the command of her kwami, her heels spit up wet dirt as she moved. "What do you mean off?"

"It sounds distorted. The dog is very tricky… Perhaps-"

With a shout of triumph Aleandra pounced upon the noise, one sharpened feather taken from behind her ear and poised, somewhat daintily, for a strike. Aleandra can't say that she expected to catch Jagan that easily. The man had lived far to long for such careless mistakes. Or perhaps he simply doesn't believe that she would kill him. She finds herself unsure if she would, which in and of itself could get her killed. After this is done, she'll have to take a long look at her priorities.

But it didn't matter, because below her was the heightened volume recording of a trumpet. The sound blasted out of a very expensive looking speaker, with said speaker connected to a shiny metallic Ipod. "No," she groaned in knowing annoyance. Five more trumpets sounded off around her, all in different directions, all of seemingly varying distances away, and all off key.

"No," she growled again spinning about, her Kwami's comment of _"Clever,"_ was so not helping.

Something fell at her heeled feet with a soft leaf-rustling _plop_. She took a step back, staring in disbelief at the second Ipod that had fallen from the trees to join the first.

"No," Aleandra gasped.

 _"BZZZZ-ZZZZ-ZZZT!"_ Screamed the second Ipod.

Her Kwami watched with a serene smile as her child stomped the Ipod in half with a furious scream, five more in the distance continued to wail.

* * *

Back in the heart of Paris, on the roof of Le Meurice, manic laughter could be heard bouncing around the alleys. Followed faintly by the soft sounds of typing, and the not so soft sounds of a very badly played trumpet's toot.

* * *

Little Adrien wasn't a child that cried often, but when he did he cried like he smiled, with everything he had. Adrien heard the faint metallic jiggle that came with turning a doorknob, he watched as his mother popped her head back into the room.

"Feeling better?" She asked, raising one eyebrow at the toddler.

Fresh new tears filled Adrien's eyes. Fresh new screeching filled the air. Ameile gave Adrien an unimpressed look as the toddler became a newfound whirlwind of swinging limbs and terror. Ameile shut the door. The screeching grew in volume.

"What is such big little man doing, no tears little big man, todays good day."

Adrien's breath hitched, his next scream replaced by a surprised hiccup. The little boy turned to the voice behind him.

It was the man on the roof the day the blue lady grabbed him. Adrien did not like that day, but he remembered the man in the red dress and the brown skin. He had slide down the roof, Adrien remembers, he slide down and was very loud. It looked like fun.

The loud man smiled, "So much better, better to smile on such good days."

Adrien sniffled again, forgetting in the strangeness of a new person in his room the reason for his tears. "Hi," the little boy whispered, raising one hand nervously in resemblance of a wave.

Loud man beamed, "Hello to you, hello little, _Qut, Kat, Yata, Billee_. Do so not mind me. I just here to drop something off. Best to get your god cat to stop chasing this dog, _eh_? Is not natural. You will be having one angry kitty on your hands little big man."

"Kitty?" Adrien said. The little boy got wobbly to his feet and followed the loud man around the room, while thoughts of animated kittens danced through his head.

The loud man walked to his dresser, he looked behind it and on top of it. Even such a tall man had to use his tippy toes to see the top, his dresser was ginormous. He walked passed Adrien and headed towards the bathroom, causing the boy to come to a tippy stop, before trailing after the man again. Around the room this went, with the loud man seemingly searching through Adrien's stuff for no reason. He stopped at Adrien's bed. He picked up a teddy bear and propped it neatly near the boy's perfectly pressed pillow. The thing was a faded dark brown, and clearly well loved. With glassy eyes that were already portraying scratches, and spots of the fur that were noticeably worn in a way that no trip to the washing machine could ever fix.

"Teddy," Adrien informed the man, the little boy reached his arms out, grasping empty air in a silent demand for his toy. Adrien loved that toy after all, and his friend Chloe had a yellow one just like it, her mom ordered one for each of them.

The loud man looked down at Adrien smiling, then he plopped his butt down on the boy's toddler bed. The retractable netting that prevented the little boy from falling off the thing in his sleep was still down for the day, allowing the man to sit.

"Teddy," Adrien demanded again, his brow starting to furrow in the beginnings of anger. Loud man smiled, set Teddy down by his hip, reached behind himself, and pulled out the most colorful plush cat that Adrien had ever seen in his whole entirely long life! The thing was covered in rainbowed splashes that resembled paint blotches. There was a bow on one ear, also rainbow, and when the loud man pressed down on the cat's soft arm, it began to sing music. Strange soft music of a female's voice, Adrien couldn't understand the words.

 _"Haaaaaaaah,"_ Adrien gasped, mouth wide and eyes wider in disbelief. " _Oh, oh_ mine?" the boy asked, fingers now grasping at the air for the new toy. The loud man smirked and handed the colorful disaster over.

The child was enraptured, but such is the case when faced with the new and the bright. Soon the much more familiar bonds of a worn-out toy given a name through love would win out, and little Adrien would be back to hugging his old toy, such is the way things go.

Until then, Adrien never noticed as the strange man on his bed picked up his Teddy, and promptly ripped the bear's side opened. He was too busy spinning about dizzily with his own new toy to see the man slide something black and shiny into his bear, before the thing was sewed back up. However, Adrien was aware enough to watch the man leave with a quiet confusion. The next time his mother popped her head back in asking about his _'feelings,'_ Adrien was no longer crying. Instead he stood near his bed, holding his Teddy out and studying him curiously. While a rainbowed cat lay abandoned in the middle of the floor, where he had been throwing a tantrum just a moment before.


	4. What do you look like

Darkness seethed, the air boiling around the form of a large dark cat. It's great paws paced at the death beneath it. Death that was so complete the dirt itself crackled and split, and died. Tikki watched her Darkness fume from scant feet away. Sitting in her own bed of lush grass and white spring red blossoms. It was good for him to pace, to power away his upsets, but she had a time limit on him before she expected back his competence.

"Careful my Darkness, I think some of the dust yet lives," she teased in a low voice. Her flat bug face smiled serenely as Plagg hissed at her. His hisses could mean many things, based on tone, inflection, known perspective. This hiss was pointless and not filled with anger towards her. Tikki ignored the hiss.

"Why doesn't this ever happen to you, huh?" Plagg said furrowing his cat's brow. He pushed himself from four legs to two, the transition flawless.

Tikki put out a placating hand, touching the tip to Plagg's hip, "It has, I have simply been... Shall I say, lucky."

"Yeah," Plagg snorted, the joke of her luck easing him and bringing him down to his haunches and to her level. He nuzzled her armored cheek, eliciting a giggle from the bug.

Tikki words hung true, but not because of her power. In the past some of her lesser gods have tried unsavory stunts, plots against her. Her lesser gods, or at least their children, had simply managed to be discovered quickly and stopped faster than Plagg's lot. She had a feeling that the gods and children of the Darkness who planned to rebel survived longer in their deceit through their habit of sticking to the shadows, while hers bathed in the positivity of humanity and their fellow Light siblings. However, such a spotlight also meant that their deeds were uncovered faster once they started acting strange, and often dealt with by their own kind. The scheming children of Light who made it the farthest were those who did not try to mimic the children of Darkness's shadowy ways, but instead made use their fame as a coverage. However, theirs was not the human world, were money and human laws could protect the famous. Personality, a reputation of character, these are the weapons the children of Light can wield. For it is their fellow Light siblings that they must trick. In the end though, the distrust of other Light brothers and sisters are their downfall. The children of Light are close, they are kinder to each other than the children of Darkness are to their kin, but they lack the loyalty that the children of Darkness accumulate towards each other. One child of Light is often reluctantly willing to out another Light for wrongdoing. While a child of Dark accepts these mistakes from others, keeps them secret, and hopes for redemption.

The children of Darkness wish for security and comfort from one another before they move on. The children of Light wish for friends and connections that will allow them control over their threats.

How have they let this difference become so encompassing?

"I never expected this from Duusu," Plagg said as his hot cat breath pushed out his nose.

"I know," Tikki replied, and she did know. Duusu was one of the older ones, one that had never tried to rebel before. The first rebellion was always the hardest.

"She wouldn't even make a very good me," Plagg protested. "She's to precise, her nature would organize the chaos of bad luck. If she had it her way energy itself would simply turn around and reknit itself. It would ruin your half, all halves."

"There are only two halves my cat," Tikki reminded him.

Plagg growled a groan at her teasing. " _Tikkiiiii_ ," he whined, eyes gone all kitty and woebegone. She smiled and hugged him to her, willfully killing her flowers as she did so.

"I know my Darkness," she answered, "but really would any of them be as good as us in our position?"

Plagg licked her stomach, "No."

Tikki looked up to a sky that wasn't a sky. "Perhaps we should be humbler, admit to the possibility of successors. What if someone could do better?" Tikki said. The thought didn't last, and she shook her head, "But we aren't humble, are we?" she tells her Darkness.

Plagg licked her again. "No," he admitted, "we aren't, and we shouldn't be. Because what all those lesser gods that just pop themselves into existence don't understand is that the world only needs one thing." Plagg gracefully spun his long frame around, looking a little more human each moment as he moved to sit himself comfortable onto Tikki's hard lap. "The world only needs balance, two beings to make it so everyday is just like the next. Forever and ever."

The two kissed. Tikki having to stretch her long neck out and around to reach her Darkness's muzzle. Their shifting blurry forms don't get in each other's way, instead the shape of their faces blend into each other. Red and black twist together, becoming a swirl against their fuzzed faces. "We don't need them Tikki, the world doesn't need them, or us. And that's something we understand."

The sky, that wasn't a sky, turned the colour of their love. Not everyone who looked up at it smiled.

* * *

"Tikki's reads stories the bestest. Cause she changes her voices just like Papa, but she can sound like a girl," Marinette informed her fellow pre-school friend Nino. The little boy squeezed a small fountain of droplets out of the soaking wet shirt he was holding, before plunging it back into the basin. He scraped it along the pretend washboard that sat within the large container of water. Their teacher watched on, amused as the children 'washed' her ex-husband's favorite shirts. She had explained to them earlier in the day that this was how people used to wash clothes, in _ancient_ times. _Ancient_ , now that's a words word. It meant old, like older than adults old, so old that it isn't actually a chore because it isn't done by maman or papa, old! The children were ecstatic to give it a go. Their teacher smirked.

"My dad does voices too," said Nino.

Little Marinette serenely picked out a pink male dress shirt from the pile behind them and made her way to the tub. "Yeah, but can your dad do the girl voices?"

" _Ummm_ ," Nino thinks.

"No, he can't, cause he's a boy see? Only a girl can do the girl voices," Marinette explained. She beamed as Nino let out a long _'ooooooh,'_ indicating that he finally saw that she was correct.

"But that means that Tikki can't be the best because she can't do the boy voices because she is a girl and only boys can do the boy voices," Nino pointed out, he scrubbed harder against his washboard. Enjoying the feeling of the rolling bits of wood rubbing against his shirt covered fingers.

Marinette froze, stumped at this new development, "Well uh, Tikki can do the boy voices too."

Nino nose scrunched up, "Nuh-uh."

"Yes-huh," Marinette snapped, then paused. "Well maybe not as well as Papa," she admitted, "but boy voices aren't as important because my stories has girlzes."

"Mine have boys," Nino tells her.

"Mine have girls," Marinette replied back.

"Alright kids, time to pack up, I have some towels for those who would like one. Back inside now. It's time for colour and cutting hour," the teacher called out with a pile of tiny white hand towels in her arms.

Nino and Marinette sat together during color and cutting hour too. Marinette was already a pro at using the small safety scissors and cut across all the lines on the papers given to her with relative ease. She only veered off if her conversation with Nino became too intense, it happened. Nino was still working on the straight part. The young boy had a habit of cutting corners or continuing to cut straight lines instead of following the curve.

"Tikki said I need to learn how to cuts good stuff cause it will helps me in the future. She said I'll have to be a accobate. Which means I am very strong and can do flips."

" _Oooooh_ ," said Nino mesmerized, "we can do flips tomorrow. I can do them too."

" _Ummmm_ ," Marinette pondered, her tiny face pinching, "I can only do rolls right now."

"I can do those too!" Nino declared.

"Yeah!" Marinette shouted, "Tikki will teach us lots."

The teacher froze behind Marinette, it wasn't her first time hearing about Marinette's all-encompassing imaginary friend. Whoever Tikki was to Marinette the pretend creature seemed to have a permanent presence in the girl's thoughts. She was hesitant to bring it up with the parents. Such conversations, she had found, are often construed as attacks against their child's creativity, and are usually looked back on with distaste as their children grow and turn out fine. Marinette would turn out fine, she'd seen enough children grow to know that, but this obsession with Tikki, while not alarming, was different. She supposed that, bad pre-school teacher rep aside, it was time to at least mention it to Mr. and Mrs. Dupain-Cheng. Hopefully her intentions wouldn't be misconstrued, or worse, the reason for rash action.

"Marinette sweetie," the teacher said, squatting herself down to the little girl's level. Marinette turned away from her friend Nino to look at her. "You're doing so well Marinette," the teacher began, smiling her patient grin. "Since you're done with all your cutting, can you draw me a picture?" the little girl nodded eagerly and supplied a chipper _'Oh yes!'_

The teacher pulled a single sheet of blank paper from the middle of the table and dragged it before Marinette, "Could you draw Tikki for me?"

Parents respond well to physical evidence.

Marinette thought long and hard, finally she gave a very quiet, _'Ok.'_ The ok didn't sound nervous, almost as if she was concentrating so hard that answering was just an afterthought. After another moment Marinette picked up the red crayon and drew two red dots on her paper. The little girl put the crayon down. The teacher waited. "Is this Tikki?" she finally asked after a minute of red dot staring passed by.

"Well," answered Marinette. She was thinking very hard. Tikki had talked her into grabbing one of the chairs from the kitchen and using them to get the earrings a while ago. When she held them Tikki's voice became clearer, smoother, like honey. Tikki told her to hide them in a little plastic pocket built inside of her diary. One day Papa asked her if she knew where the tiny stones went, Tikki had told her to lie. She had forgotten about that lie, it made her sad to think about it. But those were very special stones, they felt like…. Tikki.

"Tikki can't just be two dots," her teacher said with a smile and a little chuckle.

 _'She can't?'_ wondered Marinette, amazed.

" _Oh_ ," Marinette said. So, she tried again. She drew a little girl in a light blue dress with two stick like pigtails, black hair, and blue eyes. Her teacher eyed her, taking in her light blue dress, black hair, and blue eyes.

"Marinette are you drawing yourself?" the teacher asked.

"W _e_ ll," Marinette said again, emphasizing the ' _e_ '. Nino had stopped cutting at this point, this much one-on-one teacher attention was rare, and usually meant something.

"Does Tikki look like you?" her teacher asked.

Marinette frowned. This was getting crazy. She was going to need some help.

 _'Tikki_ ,' Marinette whispered into her mind just like Tikki taught her to do. It was kind of like talking without speaking, but it was more like speaking with another mouth. One that you had to think about to open, one that someone else had more power of moving than you did.

 _'Yes, my child?'_ Tikki answered.

 _'What do you look like?'_ she asked.

 _'Oh my, what a question, but fear not you will be able to see me soon,'_ promised Tikki. It wasn't the first time she had made this promise.

Marinette frowned, as did her teacher. The young girl didn't acknowledge the woman as she called her name. _'But I need to know now.'_

 _'Why?'_ asked Tikki.

 _'Just cause,'_ said Marinette.

"Marinette? Marinette are you there?"

 _'I suppose I look most like a beetle,'_ Tikki confessed.

"Oh okay!" said Marinette in her outside voice. Her teacher startled beside her from where she had just been about to try and shake Marinette out of whatever daze she had been in. With renewed vigor Marinette grabbed one black and one green crayon in each hand. She drew a black round body, a green head with two antennas, and more than six stick-legs coming out of the base. At the bottom of one antenna was a shape that was vaguely, but clearly, meant to represent a large pink bow.

"It's Tikki!" Marinette shouted in glee.

Within her head Tikki laughed. _'Oh, my lovely sweet it's perfect, it's perfect. Just look at that black, it's just right. Oh, my Darkness just look at that black!'_ Marinette laughed loud and long with the squeaky sweet voice in her mind, and distantly she heard another, odder, boy-ier, voice laughing too.

It took time for the teacher to take the picture and get Marinette to stop laughing. Longer than it should have, longer than was healthy for the very obedient Marinette. When asked later why she was laughing Marinette shrugged and said, "Tikki just really liked the black."

Mr. and Mrs. Duepin-Cheng were called in for a parent-teacher meeting that day.

* * *

Ameile was worried, but it was a small thing, made when to many small coincidences built up until paranoia formed. It was easily ignored. She looked at her husband lying on his back on their bed. He was scrutinizing the latest designs sent in by his staff. From his face you would think that all of them had lost whatever small respect or expectations Gabriel had for them, but Ameile knew better, he always looked like that.

She wondered if she should bother him with this. About the black dots that sometimes appeared on the pieces of paper she gave her three-year-old son to practice his letters on, or about the black spots that have started to appear on the toys at the 'homeschool children's club' that she took her son to. Mostly though, she was wondering about the small black dot on her neck. It felt like nothing, her skin wasn't raised in the area, there was no pain when she pushed on it like one would expect from a bruise, which was what people had been assuming it was all day. A bruise, a hickey, but it wasn't. Her husband wasn't fond of leaving marks, never had been, to messy. The spot didn't look quite like a bruise either. It was too black, no purples or yellows, a complete black. Yet it had a faded quality to it, almost unsolid. Research showed her that sometimes a very hard pinch to one concentrated area could form an injury similar to this, but she didn't remember getting pinched, and the articles she found said that it should be hurting at the touch.

She decided to tell. "Gabriel, I have this strange spot," she told her husband.

He looked to her and grunted, "Ok, let me see."

She moved to him, climbing into the bed on her side. She turned her neck to show the mark in better lighting. Her husband scrutinized the spot appropriately.

"It's very circular, that's a good sign," he felt along the mark, "no rough edges, that's good."

Ameile smiled at him knowing all this already, but glad her husband took her seriously enough to check for cancer when she was concerned. "My diagnosis my wife, is that we," he paused staring at her deadpanned, "are getting old."

She laughed and scooted back, slipping her daytime shirt over her head and reaching into her drawers for silk golden pajamas. Ameile turned to Gabriel smiling wonderfully in nothing but her bra, Gabriel studied her bra-ed breasts as he would a piece of designer cloth. With glaring eyes and everything he had. She smirked at him, inching closer to his person, breasts first.

Gabriel grabbed her by the shoulders and held her back from him in a firm grip. He kept her there, continuing to stare at her breasts. Ameile wiggled a bit but couldn't break free. She blew her bangs out of her face in annoyance, staring contests weren't exactly her biggest turn on, but she supposed if it brought Gabriel's boy to the yard she'd play along.

Gabriel poked a spot right below her right breast. "You didn't tell me you had more," he said.

Ameile gapped wide eyed, "What?" she gasped. She hopped out of bed and went back to her vanity, and there, right where her husband poked, was another faded black spot. "I had no idea."

She watched Gabriel fiddle with his hands through the mirror, his thumbs twisted around each other over and over. He stared straight at her, blank faced and nervous. She turned back to him, "What do you think?" she asked.

The man didn't say a word, instead, slowly and with reluctance, he lifted his left hand, his non dominant hand. Right in the middle, right on the palm, was a faded black dot.

"No way," Ameile breathed.

"It appears so," Gabriel said, "two I accepted, but three is a… special coincidence."

They sat down and talked about the spots. How odd they were. Ameile tentatively explained the dots on the less animated things she had seen. She could tell she wasn't taken seriously, but she wasn't taking herself seriously either, so that was ok.

The conversation had almost winded down to nothing when Gabriel, tired and now clad in silk royal purple pajamas, said "You know, my dominant hand is very important to my work. I've become very protective of it."

Ameile nodded, smiling encouragingly at her man to continue the abstract thought.

He continued, "So when I do hold Adrien's hand or touch his forehead, it's always with my left."

They turned out the lights, but Ameile had trouble sleeping through the phantom touch of her son's arm gripping the back of her neck as she holds him, while his elbow pushes into the spot right below her breast.

* * *

Alone in his room, when he should've been napping, three-year-old Adrien sat on his bed, wide awake and hugging his bear to his chest. He stared at the baby monitor beside him. Knowing exactly what it was for because Plagg told him so a long, long, time ago. Not that Adrien remembered when that was, but it was long ago for sure. He picked up the device and pushed it underneath his heavy comforter.

Spying wasn't nice maman.

"F _i_ nally," a nasally voice echoed throughout his large room. Adrien beamed at the pixie-like black cat now hovering lazily above him. "Plagg!" he shouted in glee.

The tiny form of Plagg gave the boy a smirk, "Hey kid, how has your day been. Oops, wait, I already know."

Adrien giggled at this joke because it was true. Plagg was always inside his head. But Adrien told him anyways. "I had lots of fun today Plagg! I did arts and crafts with Maman, and I made a lion from a plate. And I made it really good Plagg. Really super-duper good."

Plagg knew that the kid did not, in fact, make it _super-duper_ good. The lion looked atrocious. With an uneven mane and too much glitter on the paper lion's… everything. Plagg had paid attention for the finished project, giving encouragement to his kid, while he watched the boy's human parents try and hid their dismay, or in the father's case, disgust. Their child after all, was the son of artists.

They succeeded in hiding their feelings from the three-year-old. Plagg didn't count this as a win.

"Well I know it was the best lion that I've ever seen. I mean all that glitter and extra stickers made it much more exciting that any 'ol lion in Africa. You improved it."

Adrien nodded his head, hanging onto the god's every word. "I imp _oo_ ved it!" he repeated.

Plagg chuckled again and flew just out of the boy's reach. As Plagg predicted Adrien tried to grip the flying cat, but he just wasn't quick enough. He tried again until the chase led the boy and cat off the bed and around his room. The tiny unlucky god twisted and twirled around his laughing charge, taking delight in the headaches Adrien was going to give his parents later for not taking his nap. Or maybe the kid wouldn't be much different, Plagg personally thought Adrien was a little too old for naps anyways. Either case was a win.

Plagg landed in the kid's golden hair and allowed Adrien to slap his hands-on top of his head, holding him in place. "Gotchu!" the boy shouted.

Plagg settled into the boy's scalp, kneaded his paws into his skin. The god sighed happily, "Oh kid, can you believe that Tikki says it's too early for you to see us in this form? Just look at what she is missing."

"Tikki?" Adrien asked as he walked them both around his room.

"Yeah Tikki. My other half."

" _Huh_?" said Adrien.

"Our better half."

" _Huh_?" he repeated.

Plagg snickered, "Never mind kid."

"I goth _u_!" Adrien shouted again, deciding that there was a more fun direction for this conversation to be going. Plagg grinned out his fangs, "You sure did kid."

" _Hehe_ ," giggled Adrien, as was his usual response to most of life. It made things easier on Plagg, made his kid more willing when it was time to do this…

"Hey Adrien," Plagg said. He waited patiently for the toddler's full attention, repeating himself a few times until the boy was glued to his words. "Want to practice?" he asked.

The boy's eyes lit up predictively, "Yeah, I wanna practice, I'm good at prac'icing!" Adrien declared. Plagg agreed with one of these statements.

"Ok then kid you know what to do. Go grab your toy."

With a nod that shook Plagg just as badly as the boy's brain Adrien walked over to his bed and reached one short stubby arm under it. He easily pulled out a fluffy rainbow cat, one that Adrien couldn't remember how he got anymore. The thing looked crisp and new, unused. That is if one ignored the splattering of black dots covering the stuffed creature's fur. The spots look to appear in unpredictable patterns around the toy. With some places, mostly around the cat's legs and armpits, looking so cluttered with spots that there was more black than rainbow in the area, while other locations, such as its head, only displayed one or two. Adrien held the toy by one of his favorite handles, it's leg, and put a look of concentration on his chubby baby face.

The face was pointless, and the concentration not real. Plagg sighed as he already felt the toddler's attention waning inside his mind. Most likely moving onto the softness or color of the cat than what he was supposed to be doing. He had to help the kid focus, at least until Adrien was old enough to do so on his own.

"Ok kid, listen to my voice okay," Plagg said. Adrien chirped an _'Okay,'_ back. "Good, now do you feel what you're doing there? Your leaking the darkness out again. It feels good right? That's why it happens sometimes?"

"Uh-huh," Adrien agreed. Plagg nodded sagely, happy with the grip of reality that he could feel setting inside the boy's thoughts. "Good, but even though it feels good we don't let the darkness escape into people or things, right?"

"Right!" Adrien shouted, happy to know this answer. Plagg waited as the boy brought the dark energy back into himself. A few times Adrien's attention started to wonder, started to give in to that nice feeling of releasing his energy in slow amounts. When that happened Plagg gave the boy's forehead a firm tap, reminding him to ' _focus_.' It worked every time. After Adrien became more stable in his control Plagg started to try and bug the little guy, tickling him here, kneading him with clawless paws there. Adrien giggled and writhed, but he had played this game before, and did his best to keep the darkness in. Adrien was bored after an hour of this, Plagg could feel a whine coming on if he didn't end the game soon. He gave the boy one last praise for his work before telling Adrien to read to him until his maman got back. Adrien agreed and picked out what he had decided was Plagg's favorite book from the bookshelf beside his bed. The book was titled, _"Meowlody, The Great Singing Cat."_

After Adrien was settled into bed with his book Plagg allowed the toddler's high pitched, and sometimes incorrect, reading to wash over him as the peaceful background noise it was. Almost lazily the tiny god examined the cat toy while he listened. The toy's leg only spotted two more new markings, not bad considering it's a game that was meant to make the child think about his energy. With a headbutt any Pokémon would be ashamed of Plagg gently forced the toy back underneath the bed, were no adults would see it.


End file.
